In A Strange Land

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In A Strange Land

Passports :- Baggage :- Arrivals. And it’s bedlam! A melée like a field of medieval battle, shoving, shouting, scuffling, the announcements and all the signs completely baffling, and only this thought consoles: that somewhere this pandemonium conceals a chauffeur trying to be heard and a well-dressed aide with a clear head. Where are they though? Ten minutes. Thirty.Only the hustlers remain, grabbing and hissing out “Taxi?”

… pitched on the bank of a river where the adult males are fidgeting with spears … guarding a train of mules through a strange bazaar … bringing the caravel into a bay to be met by prowling canoes …

and they know (regressing to childhood prayer),they know that they’re quarry, they’re prey.